


and as the world shifted

by sparklyfaerie



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 15:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklyfaerie/pseuds/sparklyfaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Shooting a look over to where Darcy was standing, she noted that Caroline Lee was snickering into her champagne—Bing was clapping Darcy on the back, saying something that Lizzie assumed was encouraging before shoving him in the direction of the dance floor.'</p><p>AU from the Gibson wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo, like the summary says, this is an AU from about episode 5. My friend and I got to talking about 'what if's a few weeks ago and, well, this story was born.
> 
> A special thanks to next12exits (youmakemedizzie on Tumblr), for putting up with being my sounding board and allowing me to shove chapters at her for approval for weeks on end. Also for dealing with my ranting and just general obsessiveness.
> 
> Disclaimer: I claim no rights to The Lizzie Bennet Diaries, its characters, or its spin-offs.

The wedding reception could not pass soon enough, as far as Lizzie was concerned.

It was only halfway through dinner, and Lizzie was already looking longingly over at the table where Charlotte was seated, talking to Bing Lee. Wishing that the floor would just open up and swallow her, Lizzie desperately tried to avoid hearing her mother’s indignant complaints about the seating arrangements—particularly, the arrangements around the table where the Lu family were seated.

“Really, why should he be seated over _there_?” She all but moaned, loud enough for the next table over to hear. Lizzie wanted to bury her face in her hands and pretend that she was far, _far_ away; or, better yet, to kick her mother’s leg and tell her to _be_. _Quiet_. “The poor man must be bored to _death_. Look at how Charlotte Lu is talkin’ his ear off!”

“Mom!” Lizzie hissed in mortification.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be _too_ worried.” Mrs Bennet allowed. “They aren’t likely to have all _that_ much in common. What with Charlotte wastin’ her time with her little _filmmakin’_ course, I doubt they have any common interests at all!”

“Virginia, dear,” Mr Bennet patted Mrs Bennet’s hand, thankfully keeping his voice low enough that it did _not_ carry to the other tables, “I’m sure the young man is just being polite and getting to know his new neighbours. You remember how hard it was to be the new family in town.”

“Of course, of course!” Mrs Bennet’s sunny smile had returned. “What a charmin’ young gentleman he is!”

Lizzie stifled a grin at the wink her father threw her way when he turned from his wife, thankful that her mother had gone back to criticizing the colour of the bridesmaids’ dresses. (“Taffy pink! Could poor Eleanor have looked any _worse_? Girls,” and here she turned to her daughters, “you must promise me that when you have your own weddin’s, you’ll make sure _all_ your bridesmaids look well in their dresses.”) Returning her attention to the soup course in front of her, she couldn’t help but throw a glance over toward Charlotte, praying for the next half an hour to pass as quickly as possible.

The toasts weren’t particularly exciting—the best man told a story that earned little more than polite laughter from the crowd, and the maid of honour’s speech was long and rather boring. Lizzie picked at the remnants of her soup, pushing her leftover dregs around with her spoon.

The main course was served as the maid of honour stood down—the dining hall filled with the sound of chatter and laughter as people ate, drowning out even Mrs Bennet’s criticisms. (“ _Beef_! No, beef is not an appropriate main course at a weddin’. They would have done much better with lamb. Jane, dear, don’t you think so?”) The food was good, though Lizzie didn’t manage to finish her entire plate.

“Lizzie!” Lydia hissed from her right. Not wanting to attract any more undue attention, Lizzie leaned over to her younger sister. “You see Charlotte talking to Bing Lee over there?”

“Yeah? The girl next to him is his sister, right?”

“Right.” Lydia gave Lizzie a cheeky grin. “And that’s Darcy next to her. Doesn’t look very dubstep-y, does he?”

Lizzie followed Lydia’s line of sight, her curious gaze landing on the man in question. Even from his seated position, he looked well over a foot taller than Bing Lee’s sister (what was her name, again? Carol?), and had to bend down to listen to something the smaller woman was saying. He had a very haughty air about him, and though he was good-looking, Lizzie couldn’t get past the tight set of his jaw or the way he seemed to be frowning at everything and everyone. “Maybe if he stopped looking like there was dog crap under his nose. And lost the bowtie and newsie cap.” She murmured to Lydia, who broke out into hysterical laughter.

“Like _you_ can talk about his fashion sense.” Her sister eventually snickered.

Lizzie tuned out her sister as she began listing all the defects that she had observed in Lizzie’s wardrobe over the last six months. Shaking her head, she caught Charlotte’s eye and made a small show of expressing her displeasure with their current separation. Charlotte grinned at her and looked down into her lap; a moment later, a vibration in the purse that Lizzie kept by her leg indicated that Charlotte had texted her.

_‘Do you want to swap seats with Maria? She wants to talk to Sarah.’_

Lizzie looked up and nodded; Charlotte leaned over and muttered something to Maria, whose face went from bored to smiling in a matter of seconds. Collecting her purse, Lizzie told her parents that she was going to go sit with Charlotte, and asked Lydia to take her seat so that Maria could sit next to her friend, who was to Lydia’s right. The youngest Bennet obliged, shifting over to sit next to Jane.

Lizzie smiled at Maria as they crossed each other in the middle of the room, before dropping into the vacant chair on Charlotte’s other side. “Thank god I’m out of there.” She complained, placing her purse on the floor. “I think Lydia was about to start on my hair. She’s already insulted every outfit I’ve ever owned.”

A small laugh sounded from Charlotte’s other side, drawing their attention. Lizzie found herself blinking owlishly at Bing’s sister—who was even more beautiful up close. “Is this that friend you were telling us about, Charlotte?” She asked. “Elizabeth, wasn’t it?”

“Lizzie.” Lizzie corrected, making a face at the use of her full name.

“Right, sorry.” Charlotte had the grace to look embarrassed. “Uh, Lizzie, this is Bing and Caroline Lee,” she gestured to the two of them, “and that’s William Darcy.”

“It’s _so_ nice to meet you.” Caroline all but drawled, interrupting her brother as he opened his mouth to speak. “Charlotte was just telling us that the two of you are in grad school; that must be tough. All that work.” Lizzie distinctly got the impression that, much like her mother, Caroline Lee was not impressed by her studies—though she doubted it was for the same reason. “Of course, I got my Masters in Accounting a few years ago. It’s all worth it in the end. What are you studying, again?”

“Er—mass communications.” She managed to answer.

“Oh, well,” Caroline flipped her hair over her shoulder, smiling too brightly. “I’m sure that’s… interesting.”

Lizzie didn’t know what to say to this, and was grateful when Charlotte seemed to sense her discomfort. “Bing was just telling us earlier about how he’s studying medicine.” She told Lizzie, pretending for her benefit that Lizzie was not fully aware of this fact.

“Yeah?” Lizzie snapped out of her shock and turned her attention from Caroline to her brother. “Which school do you go to?”

“Oh, Harvard.” He admitted; Lizzie liked the humble tone he used, like he was bashful that he could afford such a good school. “But we live in L.A. My semester finished early, so, we’re all here for the summer. At least, we will be, if we can keep Darcy away from the office long enough.”

“Awesome.” Lizzie grinned, slightly perturbed at the way Darcy glared at Bing for his good-natured ribbing. “What do you do, Mr Darcy?”

The man—who, like Caroline and her brother, seemed even better looking up close (seriously, Lizzie moaned inwardly, that wasn’t _fair_ )—started at his name. He, however, didn’t get a chance to answer before Caroline butted in for him.

“Oh, just call him ‘Darcy’, like everyone else.” She winked at Lizzie, though the act seemed very forced and not at all good-humoured. “He’s the C.E.O. of an international media empire. Pemberly Digital—have you heard of it?” She didn’t pause to allow Lizzie to answer (in the negative) before she soldiered on. “I’m actually surprised that we managed to drag him away from his computer for the wedding today—he’s normally chained to the thing.”

The conversation lapsed for a few minutes; Lizzie patted her knees awkwardly under the tablecloth as she searched for something to say.

It was actually the DJ that broke the awkward silence as he announced that it was time for the bride and groom’s First Dance. Everyone clapped politely as the newlyweds stood up together, moving to the centre of the dance floor as _Your Song_ started playing. Neither of them were particularly good dancers—Caroline tutted a few times when Ellen accidentally stepped on her new husband’s feet.

“Don’t people know how to dance any more?” She muttered, loud enough for the entire table to hear.

“My sisters and I took ballroom dancing lessons growing up.” Lizzie felt the need to defend her town from this woman—Caroline’s condescending tone irked her. “Our Mom is from North Carolina.” She explained. “She wanted us to be able to dance and curtsey and all that stuff. My little sister never really had the patience for it, but Jane—my big sister—and I can both dance.”

“Well, we’ll have to invite you both to dance when the floor’s open, then, wont we Darcy?” Bing smiled at Lizzie, who felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. She could just _imagine_ what her mother would say if she saw Lizzie dancing with either of them.

“Oh, that’s okay.” She held up her hands. “I don’t really feel like dancing tonight, but thank you for the offer.”

“Are you sure?” Bing asked, concern layered into his voice.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Lizzie assured him. “I’m sure my sister would, though. She _loves_ dancing.”

“Oh, okay.” Bing looked a little bit like a puppy that had been denied a toy, but the moment passed and he was looking toward the table where Lizzie’s family were seated. Lizzie almost buried her face in her hands at the sight of her mother, who was making large gestures and speaking hurriedly to her husband. She was obviously criticising something. Again. “Which one’s—was it Jane?”

“Yeah.” Lizzie nodded. “Jane’s the one in the brown, sitting next to our mother. Lydia—our little sister—is next to her.”

“You’ll have to introduce us to your family, Lizzie.” Caroline’s sickeningly sweet voice interrupted them. “Bing says he met your father at the club the other day, but didn’t really get a chance to talk to him.”

“Yeah, Dad mentioned that he met you the other day.” Lizzie allowed, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation.

“Oh, look,” Caroline turned toward the dance floor again. “I think they’re finishing up.”

They were. Everyone clapped politely as the DJ finished up the song and announced that the dance floor was now open for everyone; the sounds of chatter and scraping chairs filled the room once more as people moved from their tables. Most simply milled around the edges of the dance floor or the bar, but some did take partners and began to enjoy the free floor.

Lizzie almost panicked at the sight of her mother and sisters approaching from across the room; her little sister’s simpering smile was more than enough to give away their mother’s already obvious intentions.

The three Bennet women approached the table—Mrs Bennet flanked by her daughters. Her mother’s approving smile as she eyed both Bing and Darcy was entirely too obvious. Lizzie cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “Uh, this is my Mom and my sisters, Jane and Lydia.” She announced to the table at large. To her family, she said “This is Bing Lee, his sister Caroline and their friend William Darcy,” indicating to each in their turn.

“It is _such_ a pleasure to meet y’all.” Her mother was using her best ‘southern belle’ voice. Lizzie had often noted that her mother used that particular tone with the girls’ boyfriends over the years—to hear her use it on a perfect stranger was almost ominous. “We heard y’all had moved into the neighbourhood, but we haven’t had a chance to drop by to introduce ourselves yet.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Bing smiled widely at each Bennet in her turn, his eyes eventually coming to rest on Jane. “Lizzie was just telling us that you know how to dance?”

Jane blinked at being addressed directly. “Oh! Yes.” She smiled blithely. “We all learned.”

Bing stood up, wiping his hands on a napkin that he then deposited onto his plate. “Would you like to?” He asked Jane, gesturing toward the dance floor.

Jane’s smile widened. “I would love to, thank you.”

As they moved over toward the dance floor, chatting casually, Lizzie couldn’t help but sneak glances at her mother. If the way she was smiling was any indication, the wheels in her head were already turning, assessing the situation and deciding how best to throw her eldest daughter at their new neighbour.

Lizzie inwardly cringed and prayed that Lydia and her mother didn’t make spectacles of themselves for the rest of night. Caroline Lee and William Darcy were already judging the town and everyone in it—they didn’t need any more ammunition.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the silence stretched on, Lizzie became aware of the entire room staring at them. This was, without a doubt, one of the most awkward situations that she’d ever been in. She knew if this was going to happen, she would have to be the one to initiate.

Lizzie passed the majority of the next few hours with Charlotte, leaning against the wall behind the Lu family table, watching Jane dance song after song with Bing Lee.

They had sat at the table with Caroline and Darcy for a little while, but the awkward lack of conversation had driven Lizzie and Charlotte to the bar in search of both alcohol and some space away from the strangers. While Jane possessed the ability to charm the third member of their party, Lizzie and Charlotte’s unsuccessful attempts at chatter seemed to do nothing to assuage Caroline’s superiority or Darcy’s stoicism.

“I wonder if he’s mute.” Lizzie muttered to Charlotte about an hour after they’d left the table, eying Darcy sceptically. He and Caroline had also relocated shortly after Lizzie and Charlotte, and were standing by the back wall—Caroline chatting with as many people as she could charm into socialising with her, Darcy texting on his phone.

“What?” Charlotte choked on her wine, laughing at the sudden change of topic.

Lizzie gestured vaguely at the man in question. “Darcy. He hasn’t spoken since I sat with you.”

Charlotte thumped herself on the chest, to dislodge the liquid that she had accidentally inhaled. “Disappointed that the uber rich, _ambiguously sexually-oriented man-cake_ isn’t friendly?” She teased, wiggling her eyebrows at Lizzie in an entirely too suggestive manner.

Lizzie, on her part, simply rolled her eyes. “ _No_.” She scoffed. “It’s just… rude.”

“Give him a break.” Charlotte rolled her eyes. “You’ve barely known the guy for two hours.”

“Come on,” Lizzie goaded. “Admit it; he was exactly the same before I came to the table.”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “ _Actually_ ,” she drawled, “he was just starting to talk around the time the main course was served. When you came to the table he clammed up again.”

“No way.”

“ _Yeah_.” Charlotte took a sip of her wine, her manner slightly superior. “And when I pointed you out earlier, he stared at you for like two minutes before Caroline could get his attention again.”

Lizzie blinked. “You’re kidding me.”

“Never.” Charlotte’s voice was serious again. “He’s been looking over here every few minutes since we got here. He’s watching you right now.”

Disbelief colouring her features, Lizzie turned her head back toward the wall where he and Caroline were standing—and caught Darcy’s eye. Flushing, she turned back to Charlotte just as he averted his gaze. “I hate you.” She hissed at her friend.

“Oh, come on.” Charlotte scoffed. “It’s not like I’m _making_ him look at you.”

“No, you just made me aware of the fact and made me look like an idiot when he _saw_ me looking at him.”

Charlotte patted Lizzie’s arm in a placatory manner. “I’m going for a refill.” She tipped her now empty glass in Lizzie’s direction. “You want one?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Lizzie handed over her own and turned to slump against the wall.

It wasn’t that Lizzie didn’t like parties; though she was determined to have at least a _bit_ of fun that night, the heavy weight of the knowledge that her entire family was in the room made her uneasy. Historically, her family made no bones of exposing themselves to embarrassment; from her mother’s very loud criticism of everything from the dresses to the ceremony, to Lydia’s half-drunken laughter echoing from outside, Lizzie was hyper-aware of the various members of the Bennet clan.

Desperately, she cast her eye around for Jane and Bing. They were still dancing, and Lizzie allowed herself a smile at the sight of them. They were talking while they danced; as Lizzie watched, Jane laughed at something Bing said, her grin spread from ear to ear. Lizzie sent a silent prayer to whatever higher power was listening that, should her sister really like him, he would not be driven off by their mother and crazy sister.

She picked her way around the edge of the room, intending to get some fresh air, waving to Jane when she saw that her sister had stopped dancing and was looking over at the spot where Lizzie had been standing a few minutes prior. “Jane!”

The slight concern that had clouded Jane’s face melted away when she spotted Lizzie. With Bing Lee trailing behind her, she practically skipped up to the middle Bennet daughter. “There you are.” Jane offered by way of greeting. “I thought you’d left already.”

“Not me.” Lizzie shook her head with a grimace. “Someone has to watch…” she switched gears as she noticed that Bing was actually listening to her speak, rather than staring around awkwardly, like a lot of people would have been doing, polite interest on his face. “Things.”

Jane’s smile became indulgent. “Lizzie, _things_ will be just fine. You need to have some fun.”

“I’m having plenty of fun.” She protested. “I’m just going out to get some air while Charlotte braves the crowd around the bar.” She nodded to the opposite side of the room, where Charlotte was somewhat impatiently fighting to be noticed over the older crowd. It was a pain Lizzie knew well, lacking in stature as they were—likely it would take a while for her to get their drinks and return.

“Come on, Lizzie,” Jane goaded. “Dance with someone!”

Lizzie shook her head. “I’m fine, Jane.”

Jane sighed. “Please?” She turned around to Bing. “I need to go to the ladies’ room—” she turned back to Lizzie, “—why don’t you dance with Bing while I’m in there? Just one song, and I’ll be right back. I promise.”

“No, Jane, I already told him—”

“I don’t mind.” Bing offered. “I love dancing.”

Lizzie looked from Jane’s hopeful smile to Bing’s open expression, feeling her resolve crumble. She reminded herself that Jane liked him, forcing herself to smile. “Okay, sure. One song.”

“Great!” Jane nodded in satisfaction. “I’ll be right back.”

They watched the eldest Bennet disappear in the direction of the restroom for a few moments, before Bing held out a hand to Lizzie, nodding at the dance floor. “Shall we?”

She took it with some trepidation. “Just so you know, I’m not actually as good as Jane.”

Lizzie let Bing lead her around the dance floor, falling into the movements with ease borne out of long practice. It had been some time since she’d last been called upon to dance, but she’d spent enough time in her teenage years being drilled on the various complicated steps that she’d not forgotten easily.

For his part, Bing was very jovial about the whole thing, twirling her with flare. Lizzie smiled, genuinely this time, enjoying the feeling of her skirt flying out around her, reminded of what it had been that she had enjoyed about dancing in her childhood; there was something magical about pretending that she was a princess at a ball, with a grand, sweeping gown. And while she knew that her mother would give her grief about dancing with a rich, single man, Lizzie was determined to be nice and make a good impression—after all, Jane liked him. She wouldn’t have asked Lizzie to dance with him otherwise.

“You’re pretty good.” Bing commented as she stepped under his arm.

“You’re not so bad either.” Lizzie allowed, adjusting her grip on his hand.

He grinned. “Hey, I’m sorry for leaving you and Charlotte alone with Darcy and Caroline.” He said suddenly. “They’re not exactly comfortable here and it kinda affects how they act.”

Lizzie frowned. “Yeah, I kinda get the impression that they don’t wanna be here.”

“Caroline just loves L.A.” Bing shrugged. “She’s not really one for small towns. And Darcy’s just…”

“Antisocial?”

Bing laughed. “Not exactly. He’s just… painfully shy.”

Lizzie raised an eyebrow and eyed him sceptically as he twirled her again. “ _Shy_? I thought Caroline said he was a C.E.O. Doesn’t that involve, like, a _lot_ of socialising?”

“Darcy’s never been great at people.” Bing allowed. “But he swears that a room full of board members and business executives is completely different than a room full of strangers.”

Lizzie chewed on her bottom lip. “Way to make me feel like a jerk.” She finally said. “I was just saying to Charlotte earlier that he was an antisocial mute or something.” Her eyes widened as she realised what she’d said. “Please don’t tell him I said that!” She practically begged.

Bing laughed, long and loud. “I wont.” He promised. “He gives that impression with a lot of people though.”

Lizzie snorted. “You don’t say?”

* * *

Lizzie glared down at the bouquet in her hands with all the venom she could muster.

Ellen had launched it like it was a heat-seeking missile; and apparently Lizzie had had the target painted on her forehead. She’d actually screeched a little as she flinched away from the oncoming projectile, bringing her hands up to protect her face.

Of course, her mother had been near delirious with joy upon seeing her middle daughter glaring at the bouquet in her hands disdainfully; Lizzie had been pulled to stand by her mother as they watched the accompanying garter toss. Charlotte, on Lizzie’s other side, was quietly laughing at Lizzie’s misfortune.

“I can’t believe you caught it.” She snickered.

Lizzie was pointedly ignoring her best friend, eying the clump of bachelors with some trepidation. She was pleased to see Bing in the throng, and found herself hoping that he might catch it. At least they’d already danced once tonight—it wouldn’t be nearly so awkward.

Later, Lizzie (prone to dramatics as she was) would swear that the garter had sailed gracefully through the air in slow motion, as if to taunt her—before it collided with the chest of Bing Lee’s friend. Lizzie groaned aloud as Darcy’s hand automatically reached up to stop it from falling to the ground—Lydia could not contain her mirth, her high-pitched giggles ringing out across the room.

Lizzie was vaguely aware of Jane gently admonishing their younger sister as the DJ called for the ‘lucky winners’ to make their way to the dance floor. Shooting a look over to where Darcy was standing, she noted that Caroline Lee was snickering into her champagne—Bing was clapping Darcy on the back, saying something that Lizzie assumed was encouraging before shoving him in the direction of the dance floor.

Lizzie didn’t bother to wait for her mother to start giving her unneeded advice (“ _Smile_ , Lizzie! And don’t slouch!”); she heaved a sigh and, with Lydia’s obnoxious laughter ringing in her ears, moved to meet the uncomfortable-looking man at the edge of the dance floor.

“Hi.” She offered, patting her hands dry on her skirt; she was suddenly acutely aware that the condensation from her wine glass had rendered her fingers chilly.

“Miss Bennet.”  He inclined his head in her direction. It struck her, how deep his voice was; though the tone was stiff and awkward, the tenor was deep, and pleasing to the ear.

She waved away his address. “Everyone calls me Lizzie.” She reminded him.

“Of course. My apologies.”

“It’s okay.”

As the silence stretched on, Lizzie became aware of the entire room staring at them. This was, without a doubt, one of the most awkward situations that she’d ever been in—even beating out the blind date she’d mistakenly let Jane set her up on three months prior. She knew if this was going to happen (and, oh, yes, it was. There was no way they were getting out of it now, if the way certain spectators were grinning were any indication), she would have to be the one to initiate.

Clearing her throat, she nodded to the dance floor. “I guess we should… y’know. Tradition, and all.”

“Of course.”

Technically, Darcy was a very good dancer; he knew all the steps and Lizzie followed him easily enough. But he was stiff and awkward, holding her at almost arms’ length for the entire duration of the dance; nothing like his friend. As other couples started to file back onto the floor, though, she became less self-conscious—but only marginally.

“So, Darcy…” Lizzie flushed a little at the involuntary squeak her voice gave. “Do you like it? Here in town, I mean?”

As though being asked to speak on top of the dance were unendurable torture, Darcy frowned. “Not especially.” He paused. “But then, I have not had the opportunity to see much of it; I feel I am not able to form an educated opinion.”

“Right.” She nodded, casting around for another topic. “What about dancing? Do you enjoy it?”

“I do not dance if I can avoid it.” He admitted, eyes darting around the room.

Fortunately, the song—and therefore, the dance—was winding to a close. Every step as painfully awkward as the last, Lizzie wished very much that the ground would open up to swallow her. She could still hear Lydia’s laughter—thankfully now reduced to a barely obnoxious giggle.

The last note of the song had barely faded when they both dropped their arms and stepped apart. Lizzie felt the warmth in her cheeks spread down her neck as they stood in the middle of about a dozen dancing couples, not moving.

Just as she was about to open her mouth to make an excuse, he beat her to it. “Thank you for the dance, Lizzie.” He nodded curtly, turning on his heel and striding out from between Lydia and one of her college friends, and an older couple that Lizzie didn’t know.

* * *

“That was the single most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done.” Lizzie groaned as she snatched Charlotte’s wine from her hand, draining the remaining half-glass in a single gulp.

“ _Sure_ , you can have my drink.” Charlotte drawled, eyebrow raised.

Lizzie sighed, lowering the glass. “I do not think you understand the amount of awkward that that dance contained.”

“Oh, it looked plenty awkward from over here.” Charlotte grinned.

“It’s not funny, Charlotte.” Lizzie whined. “And you know my Mom is over there trying to figure out how to shackle Jane and Bing together, and probably me and Darcy, even if it was The Most Awkward Dance _Ever_ out there.”

“Come on.” Charlotte rolled her eyes, grabbing Lizzie’s arm. “You need some fresh air. I think all the perfume in here has started affecting your head.”

Lizzie didn’t resist, setting down the empty glass on a table as they passed. The night air was cool on her cheeks, and as she rubbed them with a groan, she heard footsteps approach. She was just about to turn to Charlotte and suggest that they go for a walk around the garden, when the mention of her sister’s name stopped her.

“Jane Bennet is one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever met.” She heard Bing announce. “But Lizzie is really pretty, too.” Darcy seemed to contemplate the drink in his hand for a little too long, because Bing felt the need to prompt him with a “Don’t you think so?”

Lizzie dragged Charlotte behind one of the pillars by the door to hide as Darcy looked up at his friend. “She has… pretty eyes.” She heard him say, trying desperately to ignore the way Charlotte’s eyebrows were slowly travelling further and further up her forehead. “But you know that I do not enjoy the company of strangers, Bing. I would appreciate it if you did not attempt to force the matter. We both remember the time that Fitz—”

“Okay, okay, fine.” Bing cut off the story, somewhat exasperated. “If you’re not going to dance with her again, you should at least just try to talk to her. Didn’t she say she was a Mass Communications major? She’ll be working in your field when she graduates—that’s a topic you can both talk about, I’m sure.”

“Yes,” Darcy’s tone went very dry. “I’m sure she’d appreciate sitting through my waxing poetic over Agitha Gardiner’s latest paper on media theory in the middle of her friend’s wedding reception.”

Lizzie almost choked on her own saliva at the mention of her professor’s name; she had started reading the same paper earlier in the week. She tried not to be impressed that he had managed to finish it already, when it had only been published three days ago. She was only halfway through—though that may have been because she had been making copious notes along the way.

They heard something that sounded suspiciously like Bing sighing. “And your sister wonders why you never meet girls.”

“My sister wonders no such thing.”

“No, you’re right. She knows _exactly_ why you never meet girls.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Concrit is much appreciated.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three weeks after the wedding, Jane received flowers from Bing.

Three weeks after the wedding, Jane received flowers from Bing.

They were, Jane informed her sister while she filmed her vlog, delivered to her office; while Lizzie fretted over the invite to dinner that she was _sure_ her mother and Lydia were going to try to muscle in on, she watched as Jane fingered the petals. It was a simple arrangement of white camellias, and both red and white carnations, but the bouquet was large and striking. They weren’t Jane’s favourite flowers—those were lilies—but how could Bing have known that?

“Wow.” Lizzie blinked at the vase of flowers sitting on her sister’s dresser as she climbed up onto the bed, folding her legs and opening her laptop. Jane had wanted to watch a movie when Charlotte had left, and said that Lizzie could bring her work into her bedroom as long as she kept her company. “Mom see these?”

Jane nodded. “She seemed a bit upset that they weren’t roses.”

Lizzie scoffed, leaning over to the power outlet to plug in the external hard drive that Charlotte had dumped the raw footage for her video on. She would watch it and then send notes to Charlotte as to what she thought would make the most interesting material—not that Charlotte ever listened to Lizzie’s input, but she kept asking for it. Lizzie assumed it was for her project for her filmmaking class; the only class that Lizzie didn’t share with her best friend—and since Charlotte was kind enough to put hours into helping Lizzie with her project, Lizzie felt that offering these notes was the least she could do. “You’ve known the guy for three weeks and you’ve run into each other, what, four times?”

“Five.”

“Whatever.” Lizzie waved the correction off. “You’ve only really been on one date. Two, if you count the wedding.”

“I don’t think the wedding really counts.” Jane laughed.

“ _Point being_ ,” Lizzie pressed on, “it’s way too early to be sending you _roses_. I think he made a good choice.”

Jane’s smile as she gazed on the flowers was equal parts consideration and pleasure. “I think so, too.” There was a slight pause before her eyebrows drew together in consideration. “I wonder if he knows what they mean?”

Lizzie looked at her sister over the edge of her laptop screen, one earbud in her ear, the other in her hand. “What what means?”

“The flowers.” Jane ran her finger down the edge of a petal, her touch feather-light. “I wonder if he knows what they mean?”

Vague childhood memories swam to the surface of Lizzie’s mind; their mother had insisted on her daughters knowing all kinds of things that would likely never be useful to them in real life. Aside from cooking, cleaning, and dancing—the three most practical items on the extensive list—Lizzie, Jane and Lydia had also been subject to lessons in ridiculous things like the language of flowers. It did not surprise her that Jane remembered, but Lizzie could by no means remember them all; a quick Google search on her laptop provided her memory with the refresher it needed.

She laughed. “Well, if he does, he chose them well.” She took delight in the embarrassment that spread across Jane’s face; it was so hard to ruffle her sister, and Lizzie knew that the current topic would not _hurt_ her. “White camellias:” she read, grin on her face, “‘You’re adorable’. Well, he’s got that right. Let’s see…” she scrolled further down the page. “Ah, red carnations—admiration. And white ones, ‘sweet and lovely’ and ‘innocence’.” She cooed in a manner that she knew would bring a flush to Jane’s face.

The elder sister was hiding her face in her hands, though Lizzie could hear the smile in her voice. “Lizzie, stop.”

“I think he must know what they mean.” Lizzie teased, poking her sister in the hip. “They’re too pointed for him not to. Or maybe he got someone at the florist to help him.” She paused. “Either way, it’s _really_ loaded.”

“Or _maybe_ ,” Jane’s tone was as firm as it ever got, and Lizzie knew immediately that the topic was to be dropped, “it’s just a coincidence.”

“Uh huh.” Lizzie’s tone betrayed her disbelief as she put the other earbud in and leaned against the wall, ready to alternate her attention between her footage and some sappy period romance that Jane had selected. “Whatever you think.”

* * *

Saturday evening saw Lizzie and Jane shepherded into the family car an hour before Bing’s dinner party was due to start. Their mother had been prepping them all afternoon, testing them on proper cutlery and refreshing their dancing skills (“I remember that atrocious thing you called a ‘dance’ at the wedding, Elizabeth Bennet! You need the practice!”) despite the fact that Lizzie and Jane kept reminding her that it was just a dinner with friends. Lizzie had even been sent back to her room to change clothes, since her mother thought a green top and black jeans was ‘far too common for a fancy dinner party’.

Lizzie had fretted for the entire fifteen-minute drive from the Bennet home to Netherfield. She and Lydia were in the back seat, Jane in front; their mother was chattering away about something so utterly banal that Lizzie had tuned her out within moments of starting the drive. Occasionally she caught words like ‘Bing,’ ‘Netherfield,’ and ‘Los Angeles,’ but unless she made a specific allusion to anything she had planned (besides hopefully getting invites for herself and Lydia to stay for dinner), Lizzie was not interested.

Lizzie had never seen the house in question before; as her mother pulled into the driveway, Lizzie eyed the exterior of Netherfield with awe and a touch of trepidation. It was easily five times the size of their house; from what Lizzie glimpsed through the front windows, the entire back wall seemed to be made of glass. Lizzie disliked the squareness of it—the modern architecture was completely at odds with the charming, classic-style houses around it. It stuck out like a sore thumb… but a very well-kept sore thumb.

“Now, girls,” Mrs Bennet reminded them as they climbed out of the car. “Be sure to behave naturally tonight. None of that fancy academic talk of yours, Elizabeth. Nothin’ bores a man faster.” Lizzie rolled her eyes at Lydia, who was snickering behind her hand. “And Jane, you just be your charmin’ self, and you’ll have that lovely Bing Lee in no time at all.”

“ _Mom_ …” Lizzie groaned. “Don’t talk like that in front of anyone, _please_.”

"I have no idea what you're talkin' about, honey."

As they approached the house, Bing and Caroline seemed to materialise by the front doors, the picture of perfect hosts, Darcy behind them. Bing’s smile, Lizzie allowed, was genuine—but Caroline’s was almost definitely manufactured. Darcy, on the other hand, did not even bother to pretend to smile. Lizzie had still not forgotten the contempt that he and Caroline had shown at the wedding three weeks prior, and it looked as though their opinions had not softened in the meantime.

“It’s so nice of you and Lydia to come drop off Jane and Lizzie.” Bing was telling Mrs Bennet, shaking her hand. “It completely slipped my mind to let them know that there would be wine with dinner; it might have caused problems for them getting home tonight. I don’t like letting people drink and drive.”

Lizzie had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing at her mother. As much as she would have liked to stay for dinner, Lizzie was sure she’d have preferred Jane and Lizzie (but really, Jane) to get stuck at Netherfield overnight; she had inadvertently foiled herself.

As if he knew that Mrs Bennet was flummoxed, and that he should take advantage of it, he held her elbow and began the short walk back to the car. Lydia trailed along behind them, shaking with barely contained laughter; Lizzie could see Bing talking, and saw his face light up when her mother managed to respond.

He stood in the driveway until Mrs Bennet’s car, containing both her and Lydia, was out of sight. Then, he swung back around and joined the four of them on the porch, holding the door open for Jane and Lizzie. “Your Mom just invited the three of us over for dinner next week.” He told them. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Jane’s face lit up. “We’d love for you all to come over one night.”

Lizzie most definitely did _not_ imagine the grimace on Caroline’s face as she passed her.

* * *

Dinner was, of course, entirely catered. Because they’d arrived forty-five minutes early (Caroline had made a thinly-veiled jab about people who didn’t know to show up at the agreed-upon time), Bing insisted on giving them a tour of the main part of the house. He didn’t show them the bedrooms—that would not have been proper—but he did take them through the media room, the study, and took them to meet the kitchen staff; each of which he knew and introduced by name.

But it was the library that impressed Lizzie the most. She turned and asked Bing what sorts of books he had; he shrugged and grinned sheepishly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know—the books came with the house. I don’t really have time to read anything other than my textbooks, and when I’m on vacation I just want to… _do_ things. Outside.”

“I’m the same.” Jane agreed. “I liked to feel the sun on my face after weeks of preparing for classes every day when I was in college. Now I’m just so busy with work that I never get a chance.”

Bing was nodding along. “I mean, it’s not that I don’t _like_ reading—”

“—but there’s always something else that needs doing, and it gets pushed aside.” Jane finished; they beamed at each other. Lizzie caught Caroline rolling her eyes.

Darcy cleared his throat, looking pointedly at a pocket watch that he’d pulled out of his trouser pocket. Lizzie raised her eyebrows at it, but offered no comment. “I believe your other guests will be arriving shortly.” He pointed out to Bing, snapping the watch closed and putting it back in his pocket. If he saw Lizzie’s bewildered expression, he made no comment on it. “Should we perhaps meet them downstairs?”

“Oh, yeah.” Bing shook himself. “We should head back down.”

They were handed glasses of wine back on the ground floor, with a reminder that dinner would be ready in fifteen minutes. Bing smiled and nodded, thanking the woman and lead the way to the foyer.

Five minutes later, Lizzie watched as Charlotte’s father’s car pulled up in the driveway. Her best friend stepped out and leaned in to confer with her father a moment, before closing the door and waving him off. Then, she turned and smiled at the group of five at the top of the stairs. “Hey—I’m not late, am I?”

“Not at all.” Caroline shook her head. “Jane and Lizzie were early.”

The other guests—Ellen and her new husband (who were back from their honeymoon), a slightly older couple that Lizzie didn’t recognise, and five other people that Lizzie knew from around town—all arrived shortly thereafter. A few minutes were spent milling around, greeting acquittances, congratulating the newlyweds once again, and being introduced to the older couple who were, Bing informed Lizzie and Jane, a co-worker of Caroline’s and his wife, who happened to be nearby that weekend.

At the dinner table (which was easily three times as long as the table in the Bennet home) Lizzie was seated between Jane (who Bing had insisted sit by him) and Caroline; it was hard to determine as to which of the two young women were the more perturbed by this arrangement. Caroline tried to convince Darcy to take the other seat next to her, but he shook his head and sat opposite of Lizzie, between Caroline’s co-worker and Stuart Gibson. He nodded his head in silent greeting to Lizzie, who gave him a perfunctory smile before turning her attention to the people bringing out the first course.

She and Jane had sent in their selections from the menus two days ago—Bing had sent around an email with the options for each course. Lizzie had assumed that he was simply going to go with the most popular choices; but upon seeing that Caroline had been served a garden salad, while Jane had been served pumpkin soup, while she herself had been served the French onion soup, Lizzie smiled. She was suddenly looking more forward to the other four courses, not having to worry about being served _oysters_ or _rhubarb_.

* * *

“So,” Caroline directed at Lizzie just as the main course was served. “You're a reader, then?”

“Yeah...?” Lizzie turned her attention to Caroline, wondering what had brought the topic on; Caroline had been avoiding speaking to her since they sat down an hour previously.

“What kind of books do you read?” Caroline tucked her hair behind her ear. “I find there are so few really good books any more. It's such a shame; I love reading.”

Lizzie shrugged. “Usually it's light reading. I have enough textbooks and papers to read for grad school.”

"Like what?”

“Umm... the classics, I guess? Montgomery, Lewis Carroll, those sorts of things.”

Caroline did not look very impressed. “Darcy's a big reader.” At the mention of his name, Darcy's head snapped up from contemplating his plate, eyeing Caroline with slight annoyance—Lizzie thought it might have been a warning look. “I caught him reading Shakespeare the other day. Which one was it, again?” She asked him. “One of the plays, wasn't it?”

“Macbeth.” He answered tersely.

“‘ _When our actions do not, our fears do make us traitors._ ’” Lizzie quoted.

The corner of Darcy's mouth turned up in a sort of half-almost-smile. “You read Shakespeare?” He asked with a rising eyebrow.

Lizzie met his gaze defiantly. “I prefer to see them performed, but yeah. I read it when I feel so inclined.”

“I see.” Darcy actually leaned forward infinitesimally, fixing her with a stare that was part scrutinising, part curiosity. “And which work do you prefer?”

“ _Othello_.” She answered without hesitation.

Darcy's second eyebrow joined its mate on his forehead. “You enjoy watching people spiral into jealousy and destroy lives?” His voice was harsher than it was before.

Lizzie snorted in an unladylike manner, if the look Charlotte gave her from Caroline’s other side was any indication. “No.” She shrugged. “I like seeing the cause and effect. I mean, one man destroyed a bunch of people’s lives with only his _words_.”

“Ah, so you are appreciative of the power that one man’s words hold over the human mind.” Darcy leaned back, shifting in his seat. Lizzie suddenly realised that he was uncomfortable—at least, more so than he was before. ‘Uncomfortable’ seemed a permanent state with Darcy.

“Wait,” Charlotte leaned forward to see around Caroline, just as Lizzie was about to answer. She had obviously also picked up on his discomfort, and was looking to steer the conversation in another direction; she always had been more sensitive to other people’s feelings. Perhaps not as much as Jane, but certainly more than Lizzie. “I thought you preferred _The Merchant of Venice_?”

“I did.” Lizzie shrugged. “But that was in undergrad.”

As the next course arrived and the discussion continued, Lizzie allowed herself to relax. As long as the topic stayed in neutral territory, she found that the four of them could keep the conversation going with relative ease. They spent the rest of the meal analysing different plays, though _Othello_ never got a second mention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay; Chapter Four was giving me issues, and because this one was originally going to be a cliffhanger, I wanted to work them out before putting out Three. But I tweaked the plot a little, and voila! Here you have the result.
> 
> As always, concrit is appreciated. :3


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia woke Lizzie before dawn, swearing as she tried to navigate the stairs up to her room in the dark. Sighing, Lizzie tugged her pyjamas back into place and opened her bedroom door. Lydia had managed to get to the top floor and was now grumbling to herself as she leaned against the wall.

There were times that Lizzie wished that the Bennets had been a family of only two daughters. There were times when Lydia’s voice pierced through the walls in some tantrum or other, or when she barged into Lizzie’s room while she was getting dressed and scaring the crap out of her, that Lizzie wanted to reach out and strangle her baby sister.

The night before Bing and Caroline were due to come over for dinner was one of those times.

“Lydia, give me back my earrings!”

“No! They’re mine!”

“You took them from my room!”

“No I didn’t!”

“Yes you did, I watched you!”

“I did not!”

“ _Mom_!”

They could hear Virginia Bennet sighing from the kitchen, where she was busy peeling potatoes for dinner that night. “Lydia, honey, give your sister her earrings.”

“But _Mom_!”

Lizzie snatched her earrings back, ignoring Lydia’s shriek of outrage as she appealed to their mother with a cry of “Why would I steal _her_ earrings? She’s got the fashion sense of an eight year old boy!” Marching up the stairs, Lizzie grumbled darkly to herself about selfish little brats, making sure to shut her bedroom door behind her. It wouldn’t stop Lydia if she really wanted to get into the room, since it didn’t actually _lock_ , but it was enough to let the rest of the family know that she wanted to be left _alone_.

She replaced the earrings in her jewellery box, next to the key pendant that her grandmother had given her for her twenty-first birthday. She allowed herself a sigh as she closed the box, putting it back in the drawer that it belonged in. “That’s the last time I leave it out.” She muttered to herself, sitting at the top of her bed and pulling her laptop onto her lap.

She pulled on the large headphones that she used for Skype calls, playing music over them to drown out the noise downstairs. Lydia had been invited to some party or other, and probably wouldn’t be home before dawn. But until it was time to leave, Lydia would be shouting and making demands from both her sisters. She’d already commandeered one of Jane’s bracelets for the night.

Lizzie checked all of her email and social media accounts, marvelling again at the view count on her latest vlog on YouTube. It never ceased to amaze her, how responsive people were to her life. It was only six weeks into the project, but she was seriously considering extending it past the end of the semester. If Charlotte agreed.

By the time she finished composing an email to Dr Gardiner, Lydia was gone. She put her laptop away and made her way downstairs, thinking to check on how long before dinner was ready.

Jane was setting the table as she passed, humming to herself. The sounds of her mother bustling about the kitchen told Lizzie that it was nearly time to eat; she leaned in the doorway to the dining room, watching her older sister with crossed arms. She had been out with Bing for drinks after work the night before; Lizzie hadn’t had a chance to talk to her when she’d gotten home, and either one or the other had been out of the house running errands for their mother all day. Other than a quick hello at breakfast, this was the first time she had seen Jane all day.

“Someone’s in a good mood.” She observed, feeling the corners of her mouth tug upward at Jane’s positively glowing smile.

“I ran into Bing and Caroline at the market.” She almost danced to the other side of the table, setting a plate and utensils at Lizzie’s customary seat. “They told me how much they’re looking forward to coming over tomorrow night.”

“Bing, maybe,” Lizzie allowed, “but I don’t think Caroline’s very excited about it.”

“Lizzie.” Jane chided.

“ _You_ didn’t have to sit next to her for five courses last weekend.” Lizzie pointed out, straightening. “She couldn’t keep talking about L.A., and how much better than here it is. I swear, I was _this close_ to telling her to shut up when she started on Darcy about his sister.”

Jane seemed to want to avoid discussing Caroline’s flaws. “It’s a shame Darcy couldn’t come.” She sighed. Lizzie snorted. “Be nice.”

“I _am_ nice.” Lizzie protested.

“Strained politeness is not nice.” Jane pointed out.

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “It’s better than whatever _he_ thinks passes for manners.” She muttered to herself. Her eyes flashed as Jane opened her mouth. “Oh, come on. Not even _you_ can pretend that Darcy is nice. You couldn’t come up with anything better than ‘tall’ the other day.”

“He’s intelligent.” Jane answered primly. “ _That’s_ what I was talking to Lydia about before filming. He’s smart and successful, and he’s taken on a lot of responsibility at a very early age. He’s accomplished a lot for someone so young.”

Lizzie opened her mouth to retort, but the fact that her sister was correct stopped the words in her throat. She hadn’t thought about it quite like that before—it wasn’t until Caroline had quizzed him at dinner the week before that Lizzie had really understood what it was that Darcy actually did. By all reports, he had a very demanding job that didn’t allow a lot of time to himself.

She tried to imagine what that was like, taking her work home with her every night and never having time to see Charlotte or her sisters. Even though that was how a lot of her time was at the moment, at least she had a light at the end of the tunnel. Her thesis had a due date—running a company did not. For the first time, she felt a little sorry for Darcy. It couldn’t be much of a life; all work and few friends.

“I guess.” Was all she said aloud before their mother came in bearing a piping hot shepherd’s pie.

* * *

Lydia woke Lizzie before dawn, swearing as she tried to navigate the stairs up to her room in the dark. Sighing, Lizzie tugged her pyjamas back into place and opened her bedroom door. Lydia had managed to get to the top floor and was now grumbling to herself as she leaned against the wall.

“Morning.” Lizzie yawned, taking in the sight of her sister. Lydia’s clothing was rumpled, but mercifully stain-free. Her makeup was in no better condition; from Lizzie’s vantage point in the early pre-dawn light, it appeared that her younger sister had a rather severe case of racoon-eyes.

“Hi.” Lydia seemed remarkably sober. Lizzie supposed that it had been some time since she’d actually seen any alcohol. She could only hope that Lydia had spent the night with someone _sensible_ —or at least sensible enough to use protection.

She pursed her lips, but refrained from lecturing the younger woman. She knew from long, bitter experience that such a speech would only spark an argument, and Lizzie had had too little sleep to handle an irate Lydia. “Tea?” She offered instead, squinting over her shoulder at the red glow of her alarm clock. It wasn’t even five in the morning, but Lizzie was now too awake to sleep again. Just the thought of what the day would bring made her crave caffeine.

“Yeah, just lemme have a quick shower.”

Lizzie nodded mutely, heading back into her room to collect the cup of water that she kept by her bed during the night. Carefully, she made her way down the stairs, opting for tentative, exploratory steps over turning the light on. Her mother was a light sleeper, and Lizzie wanted her to sleep in as late as possible—once she was awake, the crazy would begin.

She was just stirring the sugar into the mugs—tea for Lydia, coffee for Lizzie—when Lydia emerged, wearing her pyjamas, hair damp and clinging to her neck. In the kitchen light, Lizzie could see the telltale signs of a slight hangover; Lydia would probably crash shortly. “Thanks.” She mumbled, taking the mug Lizzie offered in both hands.

Lizzie leaned against the counter, taking small sips of the bitter liquid as her mind raced. Truthfully, she was barely aware of Lydia as she thought of the night to come. Grimacing as she stared off into the distance, she didn’t notice Lydia’s eyes on her until she spoke. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

Lizzie gave a start as she came back to herself. “Nothing much. Just wondering how I’m going to keep Mom from scaring Bing off of Jane tonight.”

Lydia scoffed. “Mom’s not gonna scare him away.”

Lizzie narrowed her eyes. “Er, this is _our mother_ we’re talking about.” She pointed it out as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe. “‘ _Embarrassment_ ’ is pretty much her middle name. Remember Matt, last year?” The thought of Lizzie’s ex-boyfriend caused a small pang, as it always did when she thought of him. While they’d only dated for a few months, she had really liked him, and the break-up had been painful. “When Mom started on about good wedding venues he told me he couldn’t handle it and dumped me on the spot.”

Lydia rolled her eyes with a sigh. “Look, Bing’s a grownup. Matt was an idiot; and if a guy really gets scared off by Mom, then he’s not worth your guys’ time.” She pointed out. “Whoever you guys end up marrying are gonna _have_ to be able to put up with the in-laws—it’s practically in the job description.”

Lizzie was flawed by the wisdom in her little sister’s words. She hadn’t thought of it like that, and the fact that Lydia had was something of a shock to the system. Unable to find an appropriate response, she cleared her throat and managed a, “What do you mean, ‘us guys’? What about you?” She raised her eyebrows.

Lydia snorted into her mug. “Like hell _I’m_ ever gettin’ married. Stuck with one dude for _life_? Totes boresville. I like to play the field. You know that.”

Lizzie grinned. “You know Mom’s never gonna leave you alone about it, right?”

Lydia’s grin turned mischievous. “She has to get _you_ married off first. And I think that might take a while, sis—you’re so perpetually single it’s pah-thetic.”

“Hey, I made you tea.” Lizzie huffed, feeling a little insulted. While it was true that she wasn’t particularly interested in dating while she completed her thesis, Lydia’s constant allusions to her so-called ‘perpetual’ singledom were starting to sting.

Lydia rolled her eyes, tipping her head back as she swallowed the last of her tea. “Whatevs. I’m going to bed. Night.”

Lizzie restrained from answering with a petulant ‘it’s _morning_ ’. “Night.” She answered instead, frowning into her coffee.

The silence after Lydia’s bedroom door closed was stifling. Lizzie found herself humming a random tune to ward off loneliness as she waited for the sun to come up. She was in the middle of mentally preparing for accompanying her mother to the store on a last-minute supply run for dinner when her father entered the room.

“You’re up early.” He commented, moving straight toward the coffee machine, where the pot was still steaming gently.

Lizzie finished her coffee, turning to rinse her mug in the sink. “Lydia woke me up when she got home.”

“Ah.”

Lizzie watched her father, chewing on her lip as he moved about the kitchen. He wasn’t a particularly tall man; both of Lizzie’s parents were somewhat lacking in that department (Jane and Lydia were both taller than their parents). Lizzie liked that his shoulders were in the perfect position for her to rest her cheek on when she hugged him—it was one of her favourite things about him. While her mother could be overbearing, her very vocal support of her daughters was one of her finest points; but there was something about the silent support that came from one of her father’s hugs that made him Lizzie’s go-to parent.

Lydia’s words were playing on her mind. Before she could stop to think about what she was asking, the words were out of her mouth. “What was Grandma Violet like when you and Mom started dating?”

Her father looked at her over his mug of coffee as he moved to the breakfast counter. “Why do you ask?”

Lizzie shrugged, playing with her fingernails as she rounded the bench and sat down next to him. “I was just thinking about Mom.”

Her father frowned as he considered her, taking a long draw of his coffee. “Is this about Jane and Bing?” He eventually asked.

“I guess.” Lizzie pursed her lips. “It’s just, Lydia and I were talking, and it got me thinking about Matt, and…”

Mr Bennet sighed, setting his mug down with a dull _clunk_. “Lizzie, I can’t pretend that I knew Matthew very well, and I’ve only met Bing a handful of times; but even I can tell you that the two of them are very different men.” He said evenly. “I find that Bing is more open-minded than Matthew was. I doubt very much that he’ll be as perturbed by your mother’s good-natured hints as your own boyfriend was.” He paused for a heartbeat. “Lizzie, you’re not still upset about that, are you? If a man cannot accept you—quirky, affectionate family and all—then he is not worthy of you. I don’t want any of my girls to feel that they have to protect their significant others from us.”

“I’m not upset about that.” Lizzie sighed. “I’m just worried about history repeating itself.”

“Are you sure you’re not trying to set a precedent?” Mr Bennet’s voice was warm. “Prevent your mother from meddling too much in Jane’s relationship so that she will not feel the need to interfere in yours when the time comes?” He interpreted Lizzie’s stunned silence as a confirmation—which, she realised, it was. While she wanted her sister to be happy, she also wanted her mother to realise that her ‘help’ was not necessary when it came to their love lives before Lizzie re-entered the dating scene. “Lizzie, Matthew did not make the cut; you should not judge all young men by his standard. Your grandmother was just as unsubtle about marriage and children as your own mother is—it’s where she gets it from. And yet, here I am. Here _you_ are. If no man is capable of weathering an overly-involved potential mother-in-law, I don’t think we’d be having this conversation right now.”

“I guess.” There was a smile tugging at the corner of Lizzie’s mouth as she considered her father’s words.

He reached over and squeezed her hand. “There we go. You let Bing worry about your mother—it’s the boyfriend’s job to be intimidated by his girlfriend’s parents, and I believe he will endure it quite well. Worry about your mother when _you_ meet someone; and perhaps that next gentleman will be more deserving of you, yes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like always, I thrive on feedback. So if you could take a few minutes to let me know what you like, what you don't like, etc. Thanks for reading.


End file.
